


Good Enough

by cinewhore



Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinewhore/pseuds/cinewhore
Summary: Ezra helps reader deal with writing anxiety
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect 2018)/You
Kudos: 4





	Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely written out of self indulgence, as I’m struggling with massive anxiety due to my writing. Perhaps you feel the same way, in which I hope this little drabble will bring you some peace.

The rain pattering on the roof of the house comforted the silence inside, the sounds of your fingers gliding across the keyboard keeping you awake. 

You had been tinkering with this piece for weeks but none of the words seemed to fit. You scanned over everything you’ve written so far, sighing heavily at your disinterest. If you weren’t interested in what you were writing, who would be?

Writing was all that you knew. When you were smaller, you had been a quiet child, always preferring to observe those around you rather than engaging with them. Getting older, you decided that you did not wish to speak if you had nothing of substance to say, what was the point in talking aimlessly? That was a question you had asked yourself constantly when you met Ezra. Bless his heart, you knew that his everlasting rambling probably stemmed from him being alone so that once the two of you came together, he was overjoyed by your presence. It didn’t help that he pointed out the reason you didn’t speak was also that you were used to being alone, that and the fact that when you did talk, nobody really cared to listen. You had made yourself small and had grown accustomed to it. 

So you buried yourself in writing. Poetry, short stories, screenplays, novels. Where no one in your life cared to listen or tried to silence you, your characters always spoke freely. Stacks of your journals took over the bottom half of the bookshelf, whereas the top half was covered in Ezra’s books. You glanced over at it, noting the copious amounts of rejection letters tapped to the wall beside it. Ezra insisted that you hung them up, behind every no was that one yes that would change your life. You didn’t want to do it at first, but you knew deep down he was right. “None of this comes to fruition overnight, little ladybug. These letters offer you peace of mind in knowing that they will be the reason someone sees you for the true talent that you are.” He said to you one night during dinner when you broke down after receiving yet another letter saying how you were good, just not good enough. 

A warm hand on your shoulder took you out of your thoughts and you looked up to see Ezra, eyes glazed over with slumber, a loopy grin on his face. You turn back to your computer, wiping your hands across your face, desperately trying to keep yourself awake and focused. You had been so engrossed in making sure that the piece you were writing was perfect, that you completely disregarded the time. 

“I felt a coldness next to me while I slumbered and thought it was a dream, but I knew better.” He said quietly, rubbing his thumb across the area of your neck where it connected with your shoulder. 

“Sorry” you muttered, pressing the backspace key frantically as you shook your head. 

“How many hours has it been, ladybug?” 

“I’m not sure, maybe eight?” Ezra sighs softly, his footsteps echoing as he made his way back to the bedroom. 

You felt terrible for leaving him to sleep alone. It was a nasty habit you picked up, writing for extended periods of time, neglecting the needs of your body. You’d go hours without eating, sleeping, or even peeing. Your level of concentration could not be broken with such menial tasks but it didn’t come without cost. 

You stopped typing and chewed at your lip. The clock on your screen read 3:32 am. You vaguely remember starting to write at around eight the night before. It wasn’t like you were making much progress anyway, so you saved all your documents before shutting the computer down. You stood up and stretched, quietly creeping back into the bedroom. 

Ezra was digging through your closet, mumbling to himself as he pushed the hangers around. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Oh, ladybug. Please excuse my rummaging through your personal effects, I was looking for that sweater, the one you wear when you succumb to that lit screen and your imagination.” 

“I put it in the hamper to be washed, why do you need it?” 

“It wasn’t for me, I’m afraid my stature is far too large for your garments, I was gathering it for you to wear while you worked. I figured I’d make you some tea and keep you company for the time being. I noticed the goosebumps on your skin.” You smiled as you saw the familiar crinkle of his eyes. 

“Thank you, but I decided to call it a night, or morning. I’m not getting anywhere with it and I feel bad for leaving you to sleep alone.” You shed your sweatpants and crawl under the comforter, Ezra fixes the clothes he rumpled up and joined you. He laid back with one arm over his chest, the other he stretched open, waiting for you to get comfortable as you nestle in his side. 

He placed tiny kisses along your forehead, running his hand up and down your arm. You instantly felt at peace, you were at peace any time that you were wrapped in Ezra’s arms. 

“I know you all too well, my ladybug. You are worried about your musings, which I sense has left your mind to be taken over by those anxious, nasty protruding thoughts.” You nod against his chest. 

He maneuvers you so that you were propped up against his chest, facing him. Your index finger traced the line of his scar, situated right below his eye. “Look at me and know that what I say is true,” your eyes found his and you got lost in the deep embers as they glistened in the moonlight. “You are an exceptional weaver of stories. It is not something that everyone can do, it is a gift that has been passed to you, Keeva knows you are worth it. The stars shine brighter every time that you talk about the work you are doing, how the characters clash and interact with one another. My heart thumps a little harder when I am made aware that you trust me with such intimate matters. I have seen you bare, my ladybug, and while it is my favorite image to retain, seeing you bare your soul as you put words to pages is a sight I feel unfit to spectate. You are a born storyteller, you share your gift with the world and although they may reject you, it is all in preparation for your true moment to shine, my ladybug. You are good enough, despite what the imbalance offset of chemicals in your brain convince you of otherwise.” 

Tears well over in your eyes and Ezra wastes no time in wiping them for you. You let your head fall against his chest, your shoulder shaking as you release all that was pent up. 

“Thank you.” your voice muffled as you try to calm yourself. Ezra lifts up your head, letting his lips fall against yours in a deep, affirming kiss.

“I love you, my little voracious wordsmith. Never stop spinning your tales, I will always be here to listen.” 

You pushed your face in the crook of his neck, letting the beat of his pulse lure you into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
